by Doug Hoffman
“Roger that, Number One. Let's give the little gray bastards something to take their minds off escaping captives—time for a little pretaliation.”
Beth smiled and opened the channel to the Marines inside the Starflake. “Ice Castle, Peggy Sue. Do you copy?”
“Roger, Peggy Sue.”
“The ducklings have locate our missing personnel. Both are OK and are in the process of returning to the ship. Captain’s complements and you are to have the Marines proceed with operation Karf Hunt.”
“I copy, Peggy Sue. Initiating Karf Hunt.”
Beth muted the comm. “I do believe that Lt. Taylor was both relieved to receive the news and happy at the prospect of hunting down the kidnappers.”
“I think yer right, Number One. He's not going to be as happy when you tell him I want him to stay and run the operation from the shopping mall. No sense in risking someone else in light armor at this point.”
“Why do you always save the unpleasant things for me, Captain?”
“Because that's what a First Officer is for, Number One.” Billy Ray smiled widely as his wife passed his order along to JT.
Shopping Mall, Starflake
“Squads One and Two, we have a go for operation Karf Hunt. Proceed to your objectives and good hunting,” JT ordered.
“Aye, aye, Ice Castle,” came the reply from both noncoms.
He hadn't argued with the Captain's order to not accompany one of the squads. Someone had to monitor both units during their two pronged assault, someone who was not about to be distracted by being caught up in a firefight. It made perfect sense, but he still didn't like it.
“Peggy Sue, the Marines have crossed the line of departure.”
“Roger that, Ice Castle.” Acknowledged the voice of the First Officer. “Make sure the shore party keeps a keen eye out for possible infiltrators.”
“I've got the chiefs on it, Peggy Sue. Why did you feel I needed two chiefs to supervise four sailors, if I might ask?”
“Because both have as much combat experience as any of the Marines, and they have experience in alien first contact.”
“As I understand it, their first contact experience includes shooting an alien in the ass by way of an introduction.”
“I said experienced, Lieutenant, not that they were good at it. Besides, they were sitting on their arses in the shuttles and it's never a good idea to give those two a lot of idle time—they tend to find inventive ways to occupy themselves.”
JT chuckled. He was long acquainted with Hitch and Jacobs from voyages on the first Peggy Sue and the M'tak Ka'fek. They had a talent for finding trouble, but they were good men in a fight.
“Roger that, Peggy Sue. Ice Castle out.”
Locking his suit in a standing position, JT settled in to watch the Marines on his helmet display. In miniature, armored figures began descending, hopping from floor to floor on their way to the station hub.
Chapter 24
The Vault
Rick and Phil stood next to the tank containing the Tcist and their docile symbiotes. Bud was busy rigging gifts for the Karf in the hallway outside the vault. Along with several Claymores he positioned a pair of miniature cameras with motion detection to alert them of approaching trouble.
“So you're saying we need to haul these mossy worm things away with us, Commander?” Asked the perplexed SEAL Chief.
“They are evidently part of a shared mind that controls fundamental parts of the Starflake, Rick. That the grays kidnapped them and kept them alive in a guarded, armored vault deep inside their own habitat means they must be important.”
“So why don't we just rig this whole place to blow and head back to the extraction point?”
The suggestion to blow everything up compelled Mizuki to jump into the conversation. “Because, though they might not look like much, the things in the tank are part of a living, thinking organism. Just killing them would be wrong.”
“Plus it might just piss off the rest of the Tcist, wherever it is,” Bobby added. “I'm not sure having the thing that controls the atmosphere and power throughout the station mad at us would be a good idea. We need to take 'em with us, Chief.”
“The problem is how,” Mizuki continued. “That is what we were discussing when you came calling at our door. We found some metal poles we could use to make a travois—a drag sled—but we don't have a way to contain the gloam. They need to be kept wet so this part of the Tcist does not die.”
“We got in here through a personnel lock, not a shuttle lock. We had to do an EVA from the boat to the spire. I assume that these creatures can't just go for a stroll in hard vacuum.”
“I wouldn't think so, Chief Morgan.”
Phil cleared his throat.
“Body bags.”
“What, Phil?” asked Bobby.
“We have a couple of body bags, Sir. We were hoping to find you alive, but the Captain said we were not to leave you behind, alive or dead.”
“Phil is right. The body bags are oversized to fit someone in light armor and have an airtight seal.”
While Rick was explaining, Phil extracted one of the body bags from his gear. Shaking it out to its full length he held it up for inspection. Mizuki eyed the container critically.
“That should work. We can strap them to the poles and pull them behind us.”
“How much weight are we talking about, Mizuki?”
“There are twenty flatworms, each about 25 kilos, plus some water, call it 550 kilograms. Divide that by two, it should be no problem in powered suits.”
“OK, let's get to it. The longer we stay here the greater the chance of the hostiles finding us.” The Chief turned to the door and radioed. “Bud, get in here. We need your body bag.”
“Coming to you.”
He turned back to Mizuki and Bobby. “We'll get busy rigging the drag sleds if you will explain the plan to the thing in the tank.”
“Roger that, Chief.”
Shopping Mall
JT was watching the Marines' progress, chewing a protein cube and taking an occasional sip from his suit's water tube. Being sealed inside a suit of armor for hours, possibly days, was not conducive to gourmet dining. Better to down the concentrated rations and not think about it.
Outside movement attracted his attention, causing him to look up. Coming across the plaza was one of the sailors, holding at arm's length what looked like a large octopus.
What now? the former green beret thought as the command channel signaled an incoming transmission.
“Lieutenant Taylor, we got us a situation here.” It was the voice of Chief Hitch. Behind him came a small procession—two more sailors in armor herding a pair of Hoon ahead of them. One of the Hoon was cradling something in its arms.
“Yes, Chief. What's going on here?”
“Sir, we was poking around through some of the shops farther in, making sure that we weren't being infiltrated, and I came upon squiddy here.” He shook the creature for emphasis, causing it to squirm and wrap several tentacles around his outstretched arm. “It was trying to make a meal of a little brown furry thing. The intended snack was squealing and making all sorts of ruckus.”
“Am I to assume that the furry thing is what the smaller Hoon is holding in its arms?”
“Yes, Sir. These two,” he said, motioning toward the two large capybara like creatures, “came charging out of a shop and went after the squid.”
“I believe it is called an Orloo.”
“Yes, Sir. They went for the Orloo and I figured we should intervene before more blood was spilt.”
While this exchange was going on a second, larger Orloo appeared, making its way across the plaza. As it approached the two octopuses began exchanging high pitched squeals. This triggered lower pitched but equally grating sounds from the two Hoon. One of the sailors raised his railgun and moved between the new Orloo and the others. The din increased causing JT to engage his suit's external speakers.
“SILENCE!”
H
is amplified command, translated into the common trade tongue, echoed off the walls and balconies. The squabbling aliens lapsed into stunned silence.
“The next one to speak without being spoken to will take a walk outside the station.”
The Lieutenant put his hands on his hips and eyed the assembled aliens in front of him. Like I need this shit! Life was so much easier as an enlisted man.
“All right, you, the larger Hoon. Give me your side of the events, and keep it on subject and short.”
The larger Hoon glanced at his smaller companion, most likely his mate, before speaking. “Fearsome sir, the Orloo attacked our pup and tried to eat him. Just look at what it did to our child!”
The mother held out the injured pup, displaying deep gashes in its brown hide. From the wounds red blood oozed, matting on its short fur. The pup appeared to be unconscious. “Please, sir, my child is dying!”
The Orloo began whistling and tweeting amongst themselves again. JT placed his hand meaningfully on the grip of his assault weapon, hanging from its carry strap. The noises stopped. Over the command channel he called, “Dr. de Bruin, to me. I need your help.”
“Coming, Lieutenant.”
JT turned to the Orloo. “You, the accused attacker. What say you?”
The small Orloo's tentacles waived around, seemingly in panic. The larger Orloo raised two tentacles in an amazingly human-like hands up gesture.
“Might I speak, highness?” Its voice was high and reedy, but understandable.
“Just call me 'sir'. Talk.”
“The accused is very young, barely an adolescent, and cannot speak the common language well yet. She didn't realize the young Hoon was not for eating.”
“If my warrior releases her will you see that she does not try to run? If she does she will die.”
“Y-yes, Sir.” The big Orloo screeched at the smaller one who twittered back rather meekly. “She understands.”
“Chief, release your prisoner.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.” Hitch released his grasp on the creature and it slid to the pavement. While this was happening, Dr. de Bruin came jogging up, medical kit in hand.
“You called, Lieutenant?” the medical man asked, eying the scene before him.
“Evidently the octopus like creature attacked the little rodent. It appears to have some bad lacerations, could you take a look at it?”
“Certainly.” He stepped toward the Hoon mother who shrank back, shielding her wounded baby.
“Do not be afraid,” JT said aloud. “This is Dr. de Bruin, a healer. Let him examine your pup. He may be able to help.”
The Hoon blinked a few times and produced the child, handing it to the doctor. Johan knelt down and began his examination. The mother looked on nervously while the father continued to glare at the two Orloo.
“Alright, while the doctor is trying to help the victim, let's get back to why the assailant would think it OK to try and eat another station resident?”
“Sir, in our portion of the station we keep many lower animals for food. The youngster did not realize that there were other small creatures in the station that are not to be eaten.”
“A likely story, Orloo!” shouted the male Hoon.
“I was not talking to you, Hoon. I will not warn you again.”
“Lieutenant?” Johan called over the command channel. “I've consulted with Dr. White on board the ship and we feel comfortable with treating the little one's wounds.”
“Your sure our medicine is compatible with their physiology?”
“I'm just going to clean the wounds with distilled water, add some salve containing medical nanites, and then close them with surgical glue. As far as we know the T'aafhal nanites work on all warm life.”
“Alright, explain what you want to do to the parents and if they don't object get on with it.”
Johan nodded within his clear bubble helmet and turned to the Hoon. He beckoned them closer and began talking in a lowered voice. After a half minute the parents acquiesced and the doctor proceeded. Even the Orloo watched with interest as Johan plied his trade on his first truly alien patient.
A few minutes later it was done. Johan handed the pup back to its mother. The deep slashes on its side had been closed and sealed with surgical cement, which showed a vibrant purple against the little Hoon's coat.
“Your little one should heal fully in a couple of days. Thankfully there was no deep penetration, just skin laceration and little damage to the underlying muscle. The glue will fall off by itself when the wounds have healed.”
Both of the parents seemed very relieved, bowing and bobbing their heads to the doctor as he stood up. Everyone's attention returned to Lieutenant Taylor, standing on the raised platform above the others.
“It would appear that tragedy has been averted and the young Hoon will recover. To ensure that such a situation does not arise again, I want you, Orloo, to keep your young in your part of the station until they understand that creatures in other sections are not for eating. That and I want the young Orloo to apologize to the Hoon.”
The larger Orloo screeched at the small one, sounding like a bagpipe inexpertly played, and then paused. In a high-pitched and shaky voice the tentacled assailant squeaked out, “I am sorry for harming little one.”
The Hoon didn't look all that satisfied, but JT didn't give them a chance to object. “And you Hoon, this station is a big dangerous place. In the future keep a better watch on your young.”
After giving both parties stern looks, JT decided this little drama was over. “Tell your friends and neighbors that sentient beings do not eat each other, at least not while we are around. You may all go.”
Moving away, the large Orloo paused and looked back.
“Does that apply to the Karf, sir?”
“It most definitely applies to the Karf.”
* * * * *
In the shadows nearby, a group of Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra looked on with interest. One of the senior traders said to their guide: “You are right, Shanakta-fek. These creatures are not at all like the Karf.”
“No Master Trader Linoda-tik-toe. They say they come for trade, but I fear they may want more than that.”
“They healed the injured Hoon and mediated between the Hoon and Orloo. No Karf would have done that. If anything the gray vermin would have killed them all.”
“Indeed, perhaps these Earthlings will rid us of the insufferable parasites. While I was among them one said something interesting, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'”
The senior trader snorted. “In times of great peril, great profits can be made, or great disaster can befall us. In the end, it will depend on what these Earthlings want in exchange that matters.”
“Yes, Master Trader.”
“Let us go and meet these dangerous new merchants from Earth.”
The party moved out into the plaza and headed toward the raised platform where Lieutenant Taylor stood. To the traders he appeared a giant armored statue, a figure that held the promise of an unknown future of all those on the Starflake.
Chapter 25
Mizuki, Bobby & the Seals
After a bit of trial and error, Bud and Phil managed to sling the body bags between the long poles they were using as supports. A number of cross beams, attached with all purpose superglue, kept the bags from sagging excessively as the gloam and their intelligent, mossy covering were loaded into the makeshift transport. After scooping some murky tank water into the bags, they were ready to head out.
“Phil, Bud, each of you grab a sled,” Rick ordered. As they moved to comply Bobby interrupted.
“Guys, I think it best if Mizuki and I drag the sleds.” He held up a hand to forestall objection. “You have heavier weapons and are better trained at this sort of thing than Mizuki and me. With powered suits the load is not taxing and we'd rather have you watching for bad guys than acting as draft horses.”
Rick couldn't argue with the Commander's logic, even if it didn't feel right to make the off
icers act as beasts of burden. “Aye, aye, Commander. Phil, take point, Bud bring up the tail. I'll stay between the officers. Powered suits or not, I think it will take two sets of hands to maneuver these bags up the staircases between here and the extraction point.”
“A very good point, Chief Morgan,” Mizuki said, picking up the poles of one of the sleds. “How long will it take to reach the airlock?”
“Twenty minutes to a half hour if we hustle, more if the hostiles put in an appearance.”
“Then let's get moving,” Bobby said, lifting his burden. “I think we have had about as much of the gray's hospitality as we can stand.”
The party headed out, back down the hallway, retracing the SEALs' path. Bud lingered a few moments behind the rest, then hustled to catch up with Bobby's sled at the rear of the procession.
“Everything all right, Bud?” Bobby asked.
“I've left our hosts a little thank you present, just to let 'em know how much we enjoyed our stay, Commander.”
1st Squad
Gunny Acuna and her squad were stacked up on the last level before entering the station hub proper. Beneath them was an expanse of crystalline material, like geological strata marking the boundary between spire and hub. Aligned with the elevator shaft they had been using during their descent was an opening in the boundary layer, a portal to the stations hub below. The Gunny called Lt. Taylor to check on 2nd Squad's progress.
“Ice Castle, Squad One. What's 2nd squad's status?”
“Squad One, they are assembled just above the entrance to the hub. What's the word?”
“It's all good. Time to step off and see if we can find the hostiles.”
“Roger that. Squads One and Two, you are clear to move into the hub.”
Switching back to the squad channel the Gunny continued. “OK people, keep your eyes open and sing out if you spot the gray nasties. Stay frosty, we are moving down range.”
The Gunny's fireteam stepped off and drifted down into the hub. Facing outward in four directions, the Marines watched for any sign of movement as they descended into a crystalline wonderland. All around, the metal walls of the upper levels were replaced by columns and arches of glittering transparency. Light of various colors softly glowed from within the crystal walls and columns themselves. Here and there, strings of colored light flowed, bound for unknown destinations—luminous blood flowing in transparent veins.